


strawberry season

by blackbluewoo



Category: A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Fluff, M/M, Roommates, i would say mutual pining but ?? there's 2 seconds of it, short and sweet, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 07:24:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16739641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackbluewoo/pseuds/blackbluewoo
Summary: Junhee looks at him, and then looks at the three cartons of strawberries that won’t fit into their already cramped fridge. He bites his lip, rolling it between his teeth in thought. His hands barely support the towered cartons,  stretched out fingers to hold them, shaking away the hair that falls into his face.Donghun’s heart does something strange in his chest that he chooses to ignore.(In which Junhee likes strawberries and Donghun likes Junhee.)





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Halluciinatiion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halluciinatiion/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all this is my first fluff fic with some vague idea of plot so forgive me skdjfsf  
> secondly i was trying tochange up how i wrote this n i think it kinda failed but whatever  
> u guys wanted fluff so here it is !  
> n thank u so much to aurora for uhhhhhhhhh basically giving me this idea ksjd and for listenin to me rant abt dongjun every single day ily i hope u like it !  
> anyways that's all i hope u like it! sorry it's cheesy hehe

There are moments where Donghun regrets rooming with Junhee.

 

Finding him on the sofa at 3am in the morning with bloodshot eyes, anxiously nibbling on a strawberry is one of those moments. An episode of  _ What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim _ plays on the tv, volume lowered all the way down to a simple whisper. Junhee stares at it with unfocused eyes, lips curled around the strawberry he’s currently holding in his hand, entire box sat next to him, the box that Donghun had bought for a cake, one he was going to make for Sehyoon’s birthday. Which, just ever-so perfectly, happens to be tomorrow.

 

He wants to tear his hair out. In all the three months of rooming with Junhee, this is by far the weirdest and simultaneously the worst thing Donghun thinks the younger man has ever done. 

 

“Junhee,” Donghun says, loudly, disrupting the silence that envelops them.

 

Junhee turns to look at him then, lips still pursed at the tip of a strawberry, legs still folded up to his chest like some kind of demon, dark circles imprinted beneath his eyes. His hair is messy, stuck up in all directions but similarly flat against his head, grease evident in the strands that fall into his eyes. Donghun almost winces looking at him. 

 

He knew Junhee’s job was stressing him out these days, but his was not in Donghun’s mental list of  _ Park Junhee’s coping mechanisms _ . 

 

“Hyung,” Junhee replies sheepishly as he lowers the strawberry from his lips. 

 

“I needed those,” Donghun sighs, irritation seeping into his voice. 

 

Junhee manages to look somewhat guilty, casting a sad glance at the half-finished box of strawberries that are now spilled across the sofa. 

 

“Sorry. I was hungry.”

 

“You couldn’t have eaten anything else in the fridge?” Donghun says, annoyed, making his way over and scooping the remains of the strawberries into their plastic carton. Junhee looks up at him, somewhat sadly, as he does so.

 

“I like strawberries,” Junhee remarks shyly.

 

“I guessed,” Donghun replies, nothing short of bitterness as he looks mournfully down at the carton in his hands. 

 

Donghun feels strangely upset looking at them, sitting half-eaten in their box. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a orchestra is playing a sorrowful tune to commemorate their short, unfulfilling life. 

 

“I can buy you new ones,” Junhee offers. 

 

Donghun looks at him. He seems genuinely sorry, despite his comically stained lips and the red smear of colour on his cheek that Donghun can see in the dim light. He feels a little bad, now, for snapping at Junhee with his sad expression and slightly pouted lips.

 

“It’s okay,” Donghun sighs in defeat. “I’ll just wake up earlier and buy more tomorrow.”

 

Opposite him, Junhee nods, a smile half-heartedly making its way onto his face. 

 

It’s stupid, because Donghun finds himself smiling back- but he shakes it off as he walks away to discard of the box, shaking his head and muttering something that he himself can’t quite understand. 

 

The box falls into the bin with a thump, and as Donghun turns around he’s confronted by Junhee- leaning against the counter with pursed lips and questioning eyes.

 

“What did you say?” 

 

“Nothing,” Donghun says, lifting a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck, averting his eyes to the tiled floor and then back to meet Junhee’s. “I don’t know. Just go to sleep, Junhee.” 

 

“I tried,” Junhee mumbles, dejected. 

 

“Try harder,” Donghun comments, and spins on his heel to exit the kitchen.

 

Behind him, he can hear Junhee’s soft groan. He knows the younger man struggles with sleeping, but he can’t offer anything apart from sleeping in his own room, and a mass of sleeping Park Junhee laying in the space next to Donghun while he tries to sleep is, alas, not what he wants to be confronted with at 3am with his work the next morning.

 

So, he settles for being insensitive, trying to ignore the guilt sitting heavy in his bones when as he settles into bed, he hears the familiar click of the door outside, signalling Junhee’s exit. Most likely to pace around in the corridor outside where the wooden floors are less worn, to avoid creaking and disturbing Donghun.

 

Donghun lifts both his hands to cover his eyes, a loud groan escaping him and echoing through the, now, empty apartment.

 

-

 

Maybe Donghun doesn’t have to compensate as much as he does, but he can’t escape the feeling of happiness that makes its home in the centre of his chest when he brings two extra cartons of strawberries, a can of whipped cream and a bowl of melted chocolate to Junhee after his nap on the sofa. Junhee rubs at his eyes tiredly, a smile crossing his face, hands open to accept the gifts presented to him. Donghun mutters a rushed apology, and is ready to escape to the comfort of his own room when Junhee does the thing he least expects.

 

He starts to cry. 

 

It’s almost ridiculously funny, at first, because in one hand he’s delicately holding a bowl of strawberries, and in the other a can of whipped cream. But then, his face gradually begins to colour itself red, his cheeks tear stained and Donghun can only stand and stare. 

 

Junhee’s head drops, still sobbing hysterically, fingers wrapped around the bowl of fruit, chin resting against his chest. A head full of messy hair replaces the position of his face, and Junhee’s shoulders begin to shake, the bowl of strawberries quivering in his hands. 

 

Donghun eyes them, and Junhee, nervously.

 

“A-are you okay?” He asks, slightly terrified.

 

Junhee shakes his head before he lifts it to face Donghun. He puts the bowl and the canister onto the table with a clatter, then hunches over, elbows resting on his knees, and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

 

“I’m sorry,” He apologises.

 

“Don’t be.” 

 

After a few more moments of Donghun perched awkwardly on the end of the sofa, a bowl of quickly hardening chocolate clutched in between his hands, Junhee lifts his head and releases his eyes from the pressure of his palms. A smile quickly makes its way across his face, and he takes the bowl of chocolate off of Donghun without any further comment. 

 

“You okay?” Donghun questions, tentatively.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Junhee waves the question away. “I just-”

 

He stops, and looks at the strawberries again for a second, seemingly distracted. 

 

Donghun is tempted to stick his hand in front of Junhee’s face and see how he reacts- but then Junhee redirects his tearful gaze to Donghun, and the thought is gone as soon as it came.

 

“Long day,” He says, simple. 

 

Donghun doesn’t probe further, just because he understands that it’s not his business. 

 

He rises to his feet to reheat the chocolate, and upon his return Junhee invites him to join him on the sofa to watch the drama that he has currently paused on the tv. Donghun feels too bad to say no, even if when he takes his position beside Junhee on the sofa his mind flits back to the report he has due for tomorrow. 

 

It’s not the most productive use of his time, but it’s fun regardless- hearing Junhee’s sharp comments on the plot and characters of the drama. Donghun provides his own insight, shuffling closer to Junhee on the sofa and pointing characters out with his finger, much to the younger man’s delight.

 

A few witty comments later and Junhee is practically dying, clapping his hands together and pointing at the screen with a catlike smile. It’s the most interaction they’ve had since they’ve moved in together, Junhee’s usually stoic image crumbling as he ends up in tears because of Donghun’s impression of the main character of the drama. 

 

Donghun can’t help but welcome the change, even when Junhee’s head rests on Donghun’s as the laughter dies out, the drama fading into a more serious scene. 

 

The sun dances on the horizon, and dips below, staining the living room in it’s darkness, the only noise apart from the drama Junhee’s faint snoring.

 

Maybe, just maybe, Donghun feels a little too fond and lighthearted to let Junhee sleep on the sofa while he goes to his room. So, he wakes the younger man with a light grip and shake of his shoulder. He takes advantage of Junhee sleepily blinking himself awake to take the time to discard of the remaining strawberries and place the bowls into the sink, leaving a problem for less-soft-and-mushy morning Donghun. 

 

He makes his way back to the living room and guides a sleepy Junhee to his bed, hands wrapped around his, letting the younger man flop face first into his sheets. Then maybe Donghun feels bad looking at Junhee’s exposed arms and legs, so maybe he draws the sheets up around him and tucks him in a little, Junhee already drooling into the pillow, the rise and fall of his chest easing into a consistent pattern. 

 

The taste of strawberries is insistent in his mouth even after he closes Junhee’s door behind him and goes to brush his teeth.

 

It’s sweet, and Donghun feels irritatingly tender even as he lays in bed. He throws an arm over his eyes and swears to himself that Junhee’s smile and Junhee’s laugh and the taste of strawberries lingering in between them was just a one time thing, just something that happened unwillingly, because he felt bad rather than because of his own choice.

 

Yet, when Donghun walks by the fruit aisle in the grocery store the next week, he finds himself tracing back his steps and scanning the shelving for the strawberries. They’re in season and home grown, so they’re cheaper- and Donghun uses that fact as an excuse to pile them into his cart. It’s only after a couple minutes of staring at his receipt that he realises how much he bought on a whim.

 

Junhee seems positively delighted, though, when he helps unpack the grocery bags and has a grin that spreads from ear to ear at the sight of the boxes.

 

“Thank you,” He comments, setting one aside before placing the rest of them into the fridge.

 

He wants to make excuses, then, and a million immediately shoot into his mind. 

 

_ They’re not for you. _

 

_ I have to make another cake.  _

 

_ I like strawberries too. _

 

_ There’s a cat outside that only eats strawberries.  _

 

_ I need to appease the Gods. _

 

At the sight of Junhee’s blinding smile, all the words fall flat on his tongue, and he shoots a slight smile back. 

 

“No problem.”

 

Junhee looks at him, and then looks at the three cartons of strawberries that won’t fit into their already cramped fridge. He bites his lip, rolling it between his teeth in thought. His hands barely support the towered cartons,  stretched out fingers to hold them, shaking away the hair that falls into his face.

 

Donghun’s heart does something strange in his chest that he chooses to ignore.

 

“I think we should make jam,” Junhee chuckles, looking in between Donghun and the strawberries he holds. Donghun only shrugs in reply, placing a hand on his cheek to hide the colour not dissimilar to the strawberries that patterns its way across his cheeks. 

 

Junhee rests the fruit on their counter. Donghun supplies the sugar and the lemons, eyes widening in surprise when Junhee reaches into a cupboard and pulls out a pot that he didn’t even know they had. 

 

“I didn’t know you could cook,” Donghun remarks. 

 

“I can’t,” Junhee laughs in reply, pouring sugar into the pot. “I can make jam, and ramen, and that’s it.”

 

He turns to Donghun, smiling. 

 

“You’re the cook.”

 

“Baker,” Donghun corrects. 

 

“ _ Useless _ ,” Junhee sighs as he turns up the heat of the stove. 

 

Donghun perches himself on the edge of their counter, legs swinging over the edge, and talks to Junhee as he prepares several jars for his jam.

 

While being roommates for a little over three months has led them to talk more than a few times, this new conversation Donghun has with Junhee about breakfast food and his childhood is something surprising to him, something that disrupts his initial image he had of Junhee. 

 

When they first moved in, he had thought of Junhee as some kind of celebrity- more than conventionally attractive with a shiny smile and a beautiful voice that he could only hear when the younger man got in the shower (which was, conveniently, always late at night). Despite that fact, some image of Junhee as an intimidating idol-style flower boy had bloomed in Donghun’s mind and refused to wilt until their encounter at three am. Which, at the time, was inescapably inconvenient but, now, Donghun supposes, was all for the better. 

 

Maybe God really did have a plan for him. One that involved strawberries and jam and chastising Junhee for his lack of a childhood. 

 

“What do you me-ean,” Donghun half-yells whilst Junhee pours the jam into jars to set. “What do you  _ mean _ .”

 

“I never thought pokemon was that important to daily life,” Junhee says, placing the pot into the sink and running the tap. 

 

“It’s important to  _ me _ ,” Donghun sighs overdramatically, laying himself across the counter, gazing up at the ceiling. He lifts one arm to his forehead perilously. “And to your childhood. Which I’m convinced you didn’t have.”

 

“I did have a childhood,” Junhee laughs over the gushing water. “It just didn’t involve pokemon.”

 

“Completely invalid,” Donghun says, sitting up suddenly. “We need to watch pokemon, as soon as possible. It takes top priority over any other activity, ever.” 

 

“Even my report for work tomorrow?” Junhee says, finally switching off the tap and turning to face Donghun. 

 

“Even you report for work tomorrow,” Donghun confirms gravely. “It needs to happen. Even if you’re eating strawberries while you do it, I don’t care.You just need to watch it.”

 

Junhee scratches at the back of his neck, smile written across his face, eyes half closed in their own grin. His skin catches the glow of the light overhead, and loose strands of hair fall into his eyes which he brushes back with careful fingers.

 

“Okay, okay,” Junhee laughs. “Let’s wait for the jam.”

 

That’s what they do. They wait for the jam to cool, then carry plates piled with jam-coated toast to the sofa, where Junhee sets down the plates and dims the lights. Donghun flicks through the channels before casting youtube onto the tv, an episode of pokemon beginning to play. 

 

Junhee provides his critique, which mainly involves the capture and training of animals. Donghun reassures him that it abides by  _ sane, safe and consensual _ , to which Junhee objects that the fighting and entrapment of small creatures for their trainer’s benefit is far from following any rules, much less BDSM rules.

 

“Which, by the way,” Junhee says through a mouthful of toast. “Isn’t always a good policy to live by.”

 

“Give me one example.”

 

“You buying twelve boxes of strawberries,” Junhee laughs. “Okay, maybe it wasn’t sane-”

 

“I’m leaving,” Donghun says, sitting up. “I buy strawberries for you, and this is the thanks I receive-” 

 

“Stay,” Junhee whines playfully, hanging onto Donghun’s arm, leaning his entire self onto Donghun. He’s warm under the sheet they have draped over themselves, and Donghun swallows back the spit in his mouth as he looks at Junhee’s wide eyes. 

 

“Only because I have to educate you on pokemon,” Donghun relents. “Otherwise I would have left a long time ago.”

 

Junhee smiles sickeningly up at Donghun, the faint light from the drawn curtains catching the tips of his stray hairs and the bronze of his skin. He lights up in it’s glow, and Donghun has to look away.


	2. two

To be fair, Donghun likes to think he’s a nice person. A good person. He donates to charity with every paycheck he gets, and spares change to buskers on the street. He’s helped old ladies cross the road more than once, and has lied to Sehyoon about the decency of the outfit he chose to wear on his and Byeongkwan’s first anniversary.

To be even fairer, Donghun and Junhee have gotten closer over the past couple of months. Too many nights on the sofa watching dramas, and a sunrise on the rooftop with cans of cheap beer clutched in their fists had little other benefits than the closeness of their relationship. Donghun had even introduced him to Byeongkwan, who immediately got along with Junhee, and in return Junhee had introduced Donghun to Yuchan, who immediately became the light of Donghun’s baneful existence. 

And to be even fairer, Donghun had seen the offer plastered all around the mall when he went shopping, on adverts on tv and in brochures that were handed to him on the streets. It wasn’t a big deal, and it wasn’t a date. It was just him being nice to Junhee, on his birthday of all days. 

“Sounds like a date,” Byeongkwan had whistled, sat on the end of his and Sehyoon’s bed.

“It’s not,” Donghun had protested. “I don’t have feelings for him, and it’s his birthday. Strawberries are our thing.”

“A thing,” Sehyoon laughed. “Only couples have things.”

“Your thing is being annoying,” Donghun sighed, leaning back into the bed. 

“Love you too,” Byeongkwan had chimed, and that was the end of that.

Okay, so Donghun would admit- it was a little gay. More than a little gay. But they were both gay, Donghun having run-ins with Junhee’s endeavours the morning after and Junhee giving Donghun advice about his (now ex) boyfriend over cups of peppermint tea too late in the night, mug held between both hands, steam rolling off of it into the air between them, the air above where they sat on the kitchen floor. 

So, when he told Junhee to keep his birthday free, and that they were driving out to a strawberry field where they were allowed to pick strawberries and take them home, he had expected Junhee to laugh in his face. Instead, he had just smiled, bright and wonderful, and thanked Donghun profusely.

“It’s your birthday,” Donghun denies the thanks. “I wanted to make it special.”

He keeps his eyes trained on his phone instead of the man in front of him who was smiling and probably about to-

Ah, yes. Junhee pulls him into a hug. 

Like friends do. Normal, platonic friends. Who hug each other and sleep in the same bed sometimes and hold hands and pretend to be a couple at pride just for a joke. Casual banter with the homies, casual hugging and flirting and too long touches on Donghun’s shoulder. Casual dreams about kissing Junhee, about holding his face in his hands.

Just friendship things.

It’s the second day of June when Donghun pulls the brim of his hat over his head and cloaks his eyes with sunglasses to mask himself from the sun that beats down heavy over the entire city.  
Junhee is bronzed in the sunlight, eyes hidden behind an obnoxiously large pair of glasses that he excuses on a hangover from the too-cheap beer they had last night. Despite that fact, they roll down their windows and open the roof of the car as they head out to the middle of nowhere to a strawberry field. 

They arrive not so long after, the wind whipping through their hair coming to an abrupt stop as Donghun pulls to park just outside the fencing that guards the entrance to the fields. Maybe it’s because of the heat, but the fields seem to be sparsely populated for how they seemed to be advertised- very few couples and young families wandering around with large hats, clutching baskets full of fruit.

They gather baskets from a small booth and then make their way into the maze of strawberry plants. Donghun lags behind Junhee as he plucks the red fruit off each plant into his mouth and occasionally into his basket. When they reach a lull in the path, strawberries already picked, Junhee turns to eating straight out of his basket- tips of his fingers stained red from the leaked juice. 

The two of them joke around, lightly, only pausing in their path at the small cafe-hut that serves cold juice.

It feels homely, and warm, and something tender settles itself in the centre of Donghun’s chest as he looks at Jun laughing and spinning in the fields. He looks childlike and pretty, hair emerging in tangled strands from beneath his hat. He skips forward from Donghun, gently pulling strawberries off their stems as he goes. 

“Junhee,” Donghun calls. “Should we go this way?”

Junhee turns, and his lips are slightly parted to reply to Donghun, but they close again as Donghun reaches out to wipe away the colour that stains his mouth.

To be perfectly honest, Junhee just looks a little stupid at this point. His sunglasses sit on the edge of his nose and the sunhat rests crooked on his hair. His eyes peek out from behind his shades, and the smudging of red makes its way across the entirety of his mouth. So, Donghun naturally reaches out to wipe it away, making a half-hearted comment about how Junhee looks even more annoying than he usually does.

His hands shake when he realise where his hand is, and his thumb lingers just over the centre of Junhee’s lips, the red nearly gone, ombre giving way to pink and meeting all in the centre at Donghun’s thumb pressing down on his lips.

Junhee kisses his thumb, and Donghun pulls away like he’s been burned.

He then giggles softly at Donghun’s misery, and mumbles a “sure” to his question before skipping ahead in the opposite direction- strawberry basket swinging as he does so. Donghun glares after him for a few moments, his figure becoming hazy against the bright noon sun, but he soon sprints after Junhee, strawberries littering the path he follows with a yelled “hey!”.

There’s a small hill coated in wild grass not too far from a footpath away from the fields, a willow tree planted in the centre providing a shield from the heat. Donghun offers a small break for Junhee under its branches, which sway in the breeze at the altitude of the hill. Junhee brushes his hair back with his hand and accepts the offer with a curt nod, gripping Donghun’s hand freely and guiding him up the cobbled path.

Stones twist beneath their feet, and Donghun would fear for his fall if it wasn’t for Junhee’s tight interlock of fingers in Donghun’s own and his fast-paced, light footed steps. They reach the top of the hill in no time, Donghun lost for breath whilst Junhee lets go of the older man’s hand and strides forward, falling into the long grass beneath the shade of the willow. He lays, on his back, arms spread out- strawberry basket sitting upright despite the heaviness of his fall.

Donghun joins him not too long after, basket perched next to Junhee’s, back resting against the trunk of the tree. The view of the hill shows fields in every direction for as far as Donghun’s tired eyes can see, each dotted with spots of red. He redirects his eyes down, to the mop of hair that’s resting beside his thigh, Junhee’s eyes closed as if at peace, his lips still red from the strawberries.

He runs a careful hand through Junhee’s hair, brushing some of the loose strands out of his eyes. At the contact, Junhee opens his eyes, looking straight up at Donghun with a shy smile.

“Happy birthday,” Donghun says. “We can go get lunch after this.”

Junhee shuffles backwards, nestling his head into Donghun’s thigh.

“Thank you,” He whispers, and his features split into a small, genuine smile.

Donghun plucks a strawberry from the basket beside them, and hovers it above Junhee’s mouth. He giggles and rolls his eyes before he opens his mouth, eyes trailing the strawberry that Donghun softly places onto his tongue. Junhee pulls the fruit off the stem with a smile, the slight mark of its demise feathering out from the inside of his lips. Donghun swallows thickly.

It’s the heat of the moment getting to Donghun, the actual, literal heat from the sun beating down on the two of them, on Junhee’s pretty bronze skin and fanned out hair across the denim of Donghun’s jeans and the glimmer in his eyes and the red of his lips, and Donghun can’t help but lean down, soft, and press a kiss against Junhee’s slightly open mouth.

He tastes like strawberries. Donghun doesn’t doubt that if they were anywhere but here he would still taste the same, still have the red stain on his lips and the sweetness on his tongue.

Junhee reaches up with a free hand and links it into Donghun’s hair, fingers playing with the soft strands just above the nape of his neck, where his hair is the shortest. Donghun feels some of the anxiety in his chest dissipate, the lump in his throat disappearing as Junhee opens his mouth to welcome Donghun.

Donghun pulls away, and they both look at each other for a moment.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Donghun mutters.

“What?”

Silence flowers between them, spreads it’s soft, downy petals into the gaps in their speech and lingers. Donghun finds himself smiling.

“I hate strawberries.”

Junhee sits up properly then, and hooks his arms around Donghun’s shoulders. 

“Idiot,” Junhee whispers, before pulling Donghun down with him as he falls onto his back.

Donghun supports himself with both his hands, just above Junhee, laughing wholeheartedly as Junhee covers his eyes beneath him, shaking his head, raven hair splayed out against the green grass, bronze skin against the dirt. He looks beautiful, and Donghun kisses him again, and again, and again, until Junhee’s hands are buried in his hair and pulling him down to press against his lips. 

The kiss is sweet, always sweet, the taste of strawberries sharp but not jarring in Donghun’s mouth. He doesn’t like strawberries but the kiss is too candied to ever think about stopping, to ever think about drowning out the taste. 

“Do you like strawberries now?” Junhee asks, once Donghun leans back slightly, hanging above him.

Donghun pauses, features creasing into a smile. The grass is warm around them, and the smell, the taste, the colour of strawberries is heavy in the air.

“Only for you,” Donghun says, finally, and leans down to kiss Junhee again.

 

(“Gross,” Junhee laughs when Donghun pulls away.

Donghun puts another strawberry in Junhee’s mouth to shut him up, and licks the juice off his fingers with a smile.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope u liked it !!! sorry is a little. soppy but   
> if u enjoyed pls leave a kudos n i love comments too uwu

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading :D  
> if you liked it leave a kudos or a comment bc i love reading them  
> and come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/4junhun) !!


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